IF, as they tell in stories old, <br />The waters of Pactolus roll’d <br />Over a sand of shifting gold; <br /> <br />If ever there were fairies, such <br />As those that charm the child so much, <br />With jewels growing ’neath their touch; <br /> <br />If, in the wine-cup’s sweet deceit, <br />There lies a secret pleasant cheat, <br />That turns to beauty all we meet; <br /> <br />The stream, the fairy, and the wine, <br />In the first love of youth combine <br />To make its object seem divine. <br /> <br />No golden sand of fabl’d river, <br />No jewel glittering for ever, <br />No wine-born vision’s melting quiver, <br /> <br />In vivid glory can compare <br />With that which we ourselves prepare <br />To throw round that we fancy fair. <br /> <br />Never such beauty glittered yet, <br />In golden beams of suns that set <br />On cupola and minaret. <br /> <br />Never such beauty met men’s eyes <br />In silver light of moons that rise <br />O’er lonely lakes ’neath tropic skies. <br /> <br />The world holds nothing of such worth, <br />There ’s nothing half so fair on earth, <br />As that to which the heart gives birth: <br /> <br />External beauties pall and fade; <br />But that which my own soul hath made, <br />To my conception, knows no shade. <br /> <br />To every ark there comes a dove, <br />To every heart from heaven above <br />Is sent a beauty born of love. <br /> <br />The moonlit lake, the waving trees, <br />It is the eye which looks on these <br />That makes the loveliness it sees. <br /> <br />Out of myself the beauty grows, <br />Out of myself the beauty flows <br />That decks the petals of the rose. <br /> <br />So, when at Ada’s feet I lay, <br />And saw her glorious as the day, <br />’Twas my own heart that lent the ray. <br /> <br /><br /><br />James Lionel Michael<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-eye-of-the-beholder/
